


Intrusive Thoughts

by AdmiralGodunov



Category: Zero | Project Zero | Fatal Frame Series, 零 濡鴉ノ巫女 | Fatal Frame: Maiden of Black Water
Genre: F/F, Mitori makes writing smut amusing, Shameless Smut, also why are the tags for FF5 so different than the rest of the series, and why does Yuuri/Ouse not have one this is a travesty, seriously zero shame I mean it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-10
Updated: 2017-01-10
Packaged: 2018-09-16 16:58:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9281285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdmiralGodunov/pseuds/AdmiralGodunov
Summary: Yuuri, Ouse, and a bathtub. A request from a friend.





	

**Author's Note:**

> "But AG, you have a gigantic half-finished fic you should be writing"
> 
> Well yes, but this was too fun to pass up. I haven't forgotten Oneirophobia, just enjoy this for now.

It takes six months after the events of Mount Hikami before Yuuri is able to take a real, soaking bath again, instead of just a quick jaunt of a shower. She tries, several times, but the feeling of sinking into the water jolts her to the bone and she stops, realizing her heart is racing, panic at the edge of her mind. Every time, she stands, empties the tub or tells Hisoka it’s free, and returns to her bed, curling up in the corner and staring at the wall.

The first time she’s able to finish her shower and lower herself into the tub without issue makes her feel like her life is at least back to some kind of semblance of normalcy after the mountaintop insanity - she can bathe like an average Japanese person, at least, and the clear water is nearly scalding hot and comforting around her.

Several months after that, she’s able to resume a regular routine, and she thinks whatever vestiges of hydrophobia that had been instilled within her by her time on Mount Hikami are finally fading. She should probably know not to jinx herself like that by now. 

It’s one night when she’s doggedly tired - so much so she’s not even sure she won’t fall asleep in the tub; she’ll apologize to Hisoka later - that the routine is interrupted by the soft slosh of what should be relatively still bath water moving. Immediately, Yuuri’s gaze turns into the tub and she can’t even find her voice to scream at the fact there’s a  _ woman  _ in the tub. She stumbles back, tripping over her own legs and landing with the dull slap of bare skin against a cool tile floor.

The woman in the tub doesn’t much move, merely holding an even look across the edge of the porcelain at Yuuri. As the shock fades, Yuuri realizes that… she knows this woman. No, she doesn’t just know this woman - the bewitchingly gorgeous face, unobscured by the hood of the wedding kimono is so familiar, so burned into Yuuri’s own memories that there’s only the shock of disbelief she could  _ be here  _ when Yuuri says-

“Ouse?”

The neutral expression the woman’s face shifts into a slow, gentle smile that starts from her lips and travels to her eyes in a visible wave. Eyes, Yuuri realizes, which are not the dark brown she thought they were at first, but instead illuminate an earthy red so dark it looks black, like mahogany or wine.

It’s all the confirmation she needs, and Yuuri finds her mouth going dry as she gapes at the woman. Somewhere, a part of her mind recalls all the notes she and Ren and Miu had compared from what they had brought back from the mountain. She remembers reading of how many men had been brought up to wed Ouse. How many men had lost their minds at seeing a mere photograph of her, become eager to join her for eternity. She had thought Ouse was gorgeous before, but sitting in the tub as she is, bare, relaxed, her long, long hair a shimmering black cascade around her, Yuuri understands why she herself almost fell from that cliff with the ghost, happily joining her in Yuukon for eternity. And not just because of the promise of never being alone again.

A soft giggle interrupts the train of thought, and a second realization sinks in: Ouse has the power of Mitori that doesn’t require physical contact to use. Just being subjected to the steady gaze… how many of her memories were revealed again? What parts of her heart were laid bare? Yuuri realizes she’s a lot more naked under Ouse’s gaze than just being bereft of clothes, and she can do nothing about it. She self-consciously folds an arm over her chest.

“It’s alright. Come join me, Yuuri Kozukata,” Ouse’s voice is clear and gentle. Soft. It sounds so unlike what Yuuri was used to hearing before, distorted and sinister, asking if she’d fall as well. The water drips onto itself as Ouse lifts a hand out of the tub in beckoning, and Yuuri follows, like her body is moving on its own.

She pauses at the edge of the tub, though, halfway to standing, as she looks down and sees Ouse’s hair wafting gently to and fro with the subtle movements of the bath water. A sickening memory suddenly wells up of the cursed black yomi water; The first time she had seen Ouse coming up from beneath the misty lake, the water had what looked like tendrils of black hair creeping through it...

Suddenly, a hand settles atop her own, and her thoughts are forcibly scattered by the vision of standing on the veranda of the doll shrine, watching the foggy, still forest as it’s drenched under a pleasant midsummer rainstorm. The dull roar of the rain is soothing - water is still holy, still sacred and cleansing. It can wash away everything…

…Yuuri blinks back to herself, now sitting on the edge of the tub, looking down at the woman within it, Ouse’s hand no longer touching her. The water is not the corrosive and frigid black of the cursed yomi water; it’s relatively clear, with little wisps of water vapor rising from the surface from the temperature. And it hides absolutely nothing of Ouse’s body. Yuuri looks away, embarrassed, but regrets it a moment later when the backs of knuckles slowly trace their way up her forearm, bringing with them little snatches of static-like noise and visions… and a shiver not from her state of undress in the cool air.

“Yuuri…” Ouse holds the middle syllable a beat longer than she needs to, adds the tiniest plead to her tone, and Yuuri knows she’s doomed. She’s no different than any of those men who-

“Don’t think about them. That was different.”

_ Different how _ , is what Yuuri wants to ask, but she splashes down into the refreshing warmth of the bath water and the question is washed away in the flood of a half-dozen partial memories that she has to fight with a monumental effort to force into the back of her mind. When she’s able to refocus herself, she’s sitting comfortably in the tub, her back against Ouse’s chest, and the other woman’s arms wrapped around her middle. Yuuri blinks when she realizes the tickling sensation low on her belly is the tip of a finger tracing its way around her navel, and a new wave of goosebumps travels over her body, up her stomach and right into her chest, stiffening her nipples. It feels good.

“Why are you doing this?” Yuuri asks, finally. Ouse hums from behind her, the hand stilling, and Yuuri’s not sure she’s even going to get an answer when she feels the feather-light brush of lips against the side of her neck, then slowly up toward her ear. It brings with it a smattering of glimpses of wandering about the woods of Mount Hikami in restless, tortured death, but finally ending in a sort of shining hope that leaves Yuuri more breathless than the gentle touches to her body.

“I thought I wanted one thing…” A stronger memory bubbles up from the background noise cascade, of a man with a striking resemblance to Ren, but dressed in far more archaic clothes, standing behind an older-looking camera than any Yuuri has seen before on a tripod. The memory fades as quickly as it comes. “... But waiting for it… I was just as alone as I was before.”

Yuuri’s throat tightens. She knows that feeling of aching loneliness and the want for it to just be  _ over _ ; it drives her more than anything else. Ever since her parents died…

… She is brought out of that particular memory by a pair of fingers seizing one of her nipples and pinching just hard enough to be painful. She hopes Hisoka didn’t hear the startled yelp.

“No more of that, Yuuri. Let’s just let this moment be us. Let’s forge a new memory, better than all the lonely ones we have. We deserve that much, right?” Ouse’s arms wrap tighter around Yuuri’s middle, and the gentle hold becomes a protective embrace that leaves Yuuri with a desperate ache for more. It’s not entirely a sexual feeling, but… she’ll take that, too.

“Yes,” Yuuri says with finality. She’s not sure how, or why, but she wants this, and she’s rewarded with her firm decision by a scattering of kisses across the back of her shoulder, and up to her neck, open-mouthed and hot. The Mitori backlash is blissfully quiet - Yuuri has no memories to call upon in a moment like this because she’s never done it before, and the silence from Ouse’s end must mean a similar thing. The background noise of intermittent memories fades even further until they’re drowned almost entirely under the heat and lust.

Ouse’s hands wander down across Yuuri’s stomach, then splay apart and gently run over her thighs, feeling the firm muscle beneath soft skin. There’s a feeling in the back of Yuuri’s mind as curiosity overtakes the moment of foreplay, a little itch of a question that becomes enough that Ouse voices it.

“You lead an active life? Or is mountain climbing your only hobby?”

“I cycle,” Yuuri responds a bit too fast, voice edging further into breathless. She’s immediately greeted with the grainy image of a wood and metal, overly heavy and almost rickety looking bicycle from many, many years ago, ridden down a dirt road through the middle of a village by a faceless man. Rather than be jarred at the timeline discrepancy with Ouse’s idea of a bicycle, she vaguely reaches for the last time she could remember taking a ride on her own, and dredges it to the surface.

“Ah…” Ouse hums, and one of the open-mouthed kisses to Yuuri’s shoulder becomes a gentle nibble that makes her shudder, her lips parting in a quiet gasp. The fingers on her thighs curl, and Ouse drags the tips of her nails over the skin, so gentle and light Yuuri’s hips flex up out of reflex, just to feel the sensation more acutely, her knees parting. 

“It works well for you,” the woman continues, tracing her nails up over Yuuri’s hips and slowly up her stomach, the pause awkward in its length as Ouse fights with something in her own mind. Eventually, she says, “... You’re a beautiful woman, Yuuri.”

Some part of Yuuri wants to retort that she is not - and how could someone whose very photograph enticed countless people into loving her at just a single glance say that? - but she can’t find the words beneath the rush of arousal. Perhaps Ouse understands a part of that, or maybe it was her next goal anyway, but the fingers move up until they cup the bottom of Yuuri’s breasts, tracing the swell and making a point to brush the pads of her fingertips over the nipples. Yuuri’s head lulls back onto the shoulder behind it, and an unintentional noise escapes her - just loud enough she bites her lip to try to keep herself silent. 

“You don’t need to be shy,” Ouse whispers, breath warm against Yuuri’s neck. Yuuri shakes her head.

“I don’t want Hisoka to hear.”

“Ah-… oh,” Ouse’s reply is sheepish, and she nuzzles under Yuuri’s ear again, grazing teeth across the skin and seizing the other woman’s nipples between her fingers in a firm grip. If it’s an apology, Yuuri will take it, because it sends a jolt of heat down her spine and between her legs. She shifts, and the ache of arousal pangs. Yuuri’s legs move a little further open, and her hands slip from the edge of the tub into the water, sinking until she can feel the smooth skin of Ouse’s legs at her sides. Her touch is tentative, a nervous lump in her throat at the idea she’s reciprocating.

They’re actually doing this… and in a bathtub full of water, no less. Yuuri wishes her first thought wasn’t that particular one, and how ironic it is.

Yuuri shivers again at another firm pinch of her nipples, and her hands grip the skin beneath them a little harder, her own legs giving another restless shift, the water splashing softly as she moves. It hasn’t been very long, but she feels hot, tense, her lips are parted and she’s breathless in Ouse’s arms. She wants more, greedy as it makes her feel.

All but at once, Ouse’s grip on her breasts loosens, and she offers one hand. Yuuri stares at it dumbly for a moment, trying to figure out why Ouse’s just holding it out in front of them, until a little dawning thought seeps into the cloudy thoughts in her mind, and she wraps her fingers around it. Right. Ouse wants her to guide her with this part. Fair enough.

Yuuri’s heart leaps and pounds as she pushes down, gently, and feels no resistance, the lump in her throat tightening like something trying to crush her windpipe beneath her sternum. The Mitori current remains quiet, just the background noise like a television program playing in another room. No memories to call upon for something like this either, then. The warm water washes over her hand, but the change in sensation doesn’t give her pause. Nor do the feather-light kisses that make their way up the side of her neck, to her cheek, and end with Ouse resting her chin on her shoulder, watching curiously down her body as Yuuri finishes pushing her hand that last little distance.

Yuuri starts as the fingers curl against her flesh, conforming to the shape of the area between her legs, her muscles giving an involuntary twitch and a soft noise sounding from somewhere in her throat. Still, it’s not until Yuuri moves her hand to lay over Ouse’s, pushing her middle finger down and between the folds that she feels the other woman move, and the finger slowly strokes back and forth against the sensitive skin. Just that motion is enough for her to arch up a little, push her hips forward into the touch. She gasps, and moans softly, barely above a whisper. Ouse encourages the noise with another couple kisses to the side of her jaw.

“H-here…” Yuuri whispers after a moment, when the motion of the finger doesn’t completely soothe the restless ache, and she moves her hand to pull Ouse’s middle finger up a little, guiding it further up. She’s glad when Ouse seems to get the hint, and her next inhalation comes as a sharp hiss when she feels two fingers press against her clitoris, slowly rolling it and rubbing at it until Yuuri starts to lose the fight against keeping herself quiet. It’s about the time she raises her free hand to her lips, biting gently on one of the knuckles to muffle her voice, that a thought occurs. There’s something else she wants to do, too. She stills Ouse’s hand with her own, and is questioned with a soft noise from the other woman.

She doesn’t answer, merely pushes the fingers back down, further and further until they brush the overly-sensitive, aching area around her entrance, and there, she stops. Her heart’s still pounding, nervous as much as aroused, so loud she barely hears the gentle question of if she really wants to do this. It’s not something Yuuri has put much stock in, but Ouse’s from an older time period, and she knows the implication holds a stronger significance because of it. Still, it’s something she wants to do - because they’ve come this far, might as well go for everything, and… it feels right to do, in any case.

Yuuri’s not exactly sure what she expects. Ouse is slow and gentle, but the unfamiliar sensation and sense of nervousness Yuuri’s had the whole time cause her to tense as soon as she feels the finger press against the hole, seeking entrance. In turn, the finger stills, and the hand that had settled on Yuuri’s stomach holds her a little tighter as the woman behind her shifts forward, looking for a reaction, or perhaps, permission to continue. Yuuri shakes her head, and, with her hand still over Ouse’s, pushes upward until the finger more or less feels buried entirely within her. It makes her toes curl, and she hisses a gasp. It’s… different, perhaps, than what she expected. Not bad, nor even really painful, just… unfamiliar, and maybe if she can relax more, it wouldn’t feel so strange.

A gentle, tentative kiss to her shoulder certainly helps, and Yuuri relaxes her legs back down, stretches out a little, and her eyes shut as she takes a deep breath. Alright, she’s got this.

A moment later, and she nods; the finger begins moving in a slow, relaxed motion, and Yuuri slowly exhales the breath she hadn’t even realized she was holding. It does feel good like this - it soothes the pangs of arousal, builds heat in her body, and she soon finds herself whispering soft moans into the air of the bathroom, thoughts of Hisoka potentially hearing her momentarily forgotten. She lifts the one hand not resting over Ouse’s between her legs, and reaches up and back behind her, gently pushing her fingers along the side of the other woman’s face and into her hair. Ouse hums a soft note at the contact, and the next thing Yuuri feels is another open-mouthed kiss to her neck that ends with a graze of teeth and a soft bite. She jumps, her hips pushing up into the finger, the water splashing louder than the noise she makes as she disturbs it with the motion.

“Sorry…” Ouse doesn’t sound particularly sorry at all. “... But this is all I can leave you with after this.”

“H-huh?” Yuuri asks, breathy, cracking an eye open, trying to look to her side, but Ouse shakes her head, and leans down, hiding her face behind her long hair and Yuuri’s shoulder. Her other hand, however, slips back down Yuuri’s belly, and the gentle thrusting motion of the finger pauses briefly as Ouse situates both hands between Yuuri’s legs. Yuuri does not get the chance to wonder what is going on when the newly arrived hand settles fingers over her clitoris, rubbing it gently in time with the motions of the finger within her. The contact makes Yuuri’s muscles twitch again, and she has to remember to keep herself from clenching her legs together.

If Yuuri thought it felt good before, this is even better, and her legs tense, her back arching, pushing her hips up into the touch. She barely has presence of mind to slip her hand from Ouse’s hair and press the knuckles against her lips to try to muffle the moan she sounds. Once more, the other woman’s lips find her neck, but this time, the bite is harder, accompanied by a strong suction that’s painful, but at the same time hot and wonderful. Yuuri’s not entirely certain how loud she moans Ouse’s name at that, but she hears the reverberation and knows it was probably louder than it should have been.

That’s going to leave a mark, and somehow, she can’t find it in herself to care. Even if she wasn’t distracted by every other sensation coursing through her body, she doesn’t mind the bruise, or what it means. Slowly, the motions of hands and fingers get going faster, Yuuri quietly moaning encouragement at the increase in tempo. She closes her eyes again, brows knitting in concentration, and just focuses on the touch to her body.

The build is long, slow, punctuated with little kisses to the forming bruise on her neck and her shoulders. Yuuri feels like she’s drowning under the sensation, and for once, she doesn’t mind the correlation. She doesn’t realize how tense her muscles are until they won’t flex any further, that she can’t push her hips up any more, that she’s grabbing Ouse’s wrist tightly, like a lifeline. It doesn’t end when she thinks it can’t get anymore, though, until it starts to become an almost frustrating chase. She winces, groaning, so tense she’s on the verge of a muscle cramp.

What finally pushes her over the edge is Ouse’s voice, cooing in her ear, “Come for me, Yuuri. It’s okay. I want to feel you fall…”

Yuuri never could deny anyone a request. There’s just  _ something  _ about this particular one that ends with Yuuri moaning, louder, Ouse’s name escaping along the way. It’s only a few more circular strokes before her back arches, all the tension hitting a peak in an unmistakable maelstrom of hot sensation that makes her want to scream and throttles her voice in her throat all at once. Then, just as quickly as it hit, it fades, and Yuuri melts, satisfied, panting, and boneless into the woman beneath her. She finds she enjoys the thrum like energy through her body, and even the continued pulsations of muscle between her legs, around the finger that lingers for a moment, before sliding back out of her. Both Ouse’s hands rest comfortably around her lower belly afterward. The silence, however, brings back the resurgence of Mitori, and Yuuri shifts, sloshing the water worse than her orgasm brought about as she sits back up, suddenly. She doesn’t have the energy to fight it, but this isn’t the time for it to come back, for the whispers of memories of the mountain and the rituals and the people’s deaths Ouse’s witnessed to leak into her mind, and Ouse sighs, in turn.

“I suppose this is the end of this for now,” Ouse’s voice carries an affectionate warmth that helps Yuuri calm for a moment. Yuuri turns to look over her shoulder, and meets Ouse’s eyes, evenly. Most others wouldn’t be able to, she knows, but she can, though the temptation to look down, along the other woman’s body as she sits relaxed in the tub is incessant.

_ How is she going to leave? _ Is really what Yuuri wants to ask, but she doesn’t. Yuuri frowns a bit, instead, wishing she could reciprocate, or at least pay the other woman back for this, but knows she’s too drained to fight the Mitori and ruin the moment. She can try to do one final thing, however, and, propping herself up on her hands and knees, she stretches over Ouse’s body, and meets the other woman’s lips in a brief, but heated kiss. The memories crackle and fight, and she catches a glimpse of watching the lid of a reliquary close over her head, surrounded by freezing black water, before she pulls back.

“Now what?” Yuuri asks, as it breaks, feeling the tickling brush of bangs over her forehead as she pulls back just enough to lock eyes with the notorious and cursed maiden of Mount Hikami. She definitely regrets missing the red tone to them before. It’s gorgeous. Ouse is gorgeous.

“You need to wake up,” Ouse replies, and Yuuri doesn’t get the chance to ask what she means before she’s seized around the shoulders in a hug, and pulled downward, face-first, into the bath water. A memory of drowning crashes into her mind.

Yuuri jolts backward, startled, out of the water, splashing and kicking it around, gasping for air. She immediately sits back and up onto her knees, looking into the bathtub, empty but for the water that’s already gone lukewarm. She places a shaky hand on the edge of the tub, and is jolted again by a knock at the door. There’s a grogginess in the back of her mind, a slow-windup like she barely recognizes where she is, but she knows the voice that speaks.

“Yuuri? Are you alright?” it’s Hisoka, on the other side of the door, and Yuuri stares dumbly at it, the groggy fog of adrenaline fading at her rude awakening.

“Y-yeah. I’m alright,” she answers. “I think I just fell asleep…”

“Alright. Well, you’ve been in there a while, so if the water’s not hot anymore, you can just drain the tub,” Hisoka replies from beyond the door. Yuuri hears the sound of footsteps fade into the distance a moment later, and she gingerly tries to stand. What she’s not expecting is how watery her knees feel. Must just be a side-effect of being so tired, she thinks, and shakes her head to clear it. That had been such a vivid wet dream, though…

Yuuri drains the tub, gathers her things, and steps out into the hallway toward her room, when she hears the sliding door of Hisoka’s room open behind her, and she turns around.

“Are you sure you’re alright, Yuuri?” Hisoka asks. “Did you have a nightmare?”

Yuuri shakes her head, holding the clothing in her arms a little tighter. “No, I think I just slipped into the water and it startled me awake.”

Hisoka steps forward a few paces, looks Yuuri over, then frowns as her eyes trace down just below Yuuri’s jaw, onto her neck. “Did you get a boyfriend when I wasn’t looking?”

“- Huh? No, no I’m-”

“Either that, or you hit yourself when you woke up in there. You have a mark on the side of your neck.”

  
Yuuri pales, immediately bringing a hand up to the side of her neck. Sure enough, the area is a little sore to the touch, bruised when she presses against it. She turns, without saying another word, and flees into her room.

**Author's Note:**

> Omake:
> 
> “Congrats on the sex,” Miu says dryly from across the pushed-together tables in the cafe the group is sitting at, enjoying some tea. Yuuri acutely wishes she owned something with a higher collar, or a necklace, or something to hide the mark on her neck, now a spotty dull purple in the middle and fading to yellow-green around the edges. 
> 
> Ren looks up from his cup of tea, searching, until Rui elbows him in the ribs, and Hisoka begins a losing fight against a laugh at the whole scene.
> 
> “Do I know them?” Miu continues, because of course she can’t just leave it at the one remark. Yuuri stares intently at the table in front of her, wishing Hisoka would come to her rescue, but knowing nothing is forthcoming because Hisoka is probably just as curious.
> 
> “Nn- it wasn’t… - I fell asleep in the tub, and I jolted awake. I must have hit myself…” Yuuri says, unconvincing in her lie, and Miu frowns, reaching for her hand across the table. Yuuri jerks it away.
> 
> “It is true she didn’t have anything on her neck before she went into the bathroom. At least not that I remember,” Hisoka says, still doing a poor job not laughing.
> 
> Miu frowns, but sounds less deadpan and more interested as she asks, “That is not the kind of bruise you get from just hitting yourself. ... A ghost? Someone from Mount Hikami, then?”
> 
> Yuuri fidgets, but Ren speaks before she has the chance to verbally dodge the question, “How would she do something like that with a ghost? In a dream? That isn’t possible.”
> 
> At the very least, Yuuri is saved as Miu swivels her head - slowly, unblinking, like a possessed doll - and fixes Ren with a blank, thousand-yard stare. He clearly wants to say something, but after several long, silent moments pass, he stands, clearing his throat, and walking toward the back, excusing himself to use the restroom.
> 
> Hisoka laughs. Yuuri silently wishes Ouse actually had drowned her instead of waking her up.


End file.
